My lack of computer was my excuse to be super lazy with my blog for the six months I was in Brazil. Two weeks of traveling with Swhorm (Sao Paulo, Trindade, Paraty & Rio for Carnaval), a month and a half in Brasilia with Verenice, and then four months spent in Rio gave me 7+ homes while I was there. I enjoyed something about every place I stayed but the last one was definitely the most interesting.
With just under two months left for me in Rio, my friend Nico had started looking for a roommate to make his rent cheaper. He and I had become good friends--I met him in Cuzco through a mutual friend who had her own restaurant where we both ate all the time (Lila's in the Mercado San Blas if anyone ever goes to Cuzco...Lila's the best and her food is amazing!). Lila's son takes jiu jitsu classes with Nico and I'd been wanting to learn some sort of self defense for a while so I went to take a class with him.
He was always a big-time jokester in the restaurant so I was surprised that he owned his own gym and took his classes very seriously. We spent an hour and a half working on balance and basic self defense for the cost of about 3 USD and I loved it! I wanted to take more classes with him but it turned out that he was heading to Lima for two weeks and then I would be leaving the country.
Well, it turned out he was leaving to and we were both headed to Rio!
Thanks again, life! Before we even got there, we started talking on facebook and whatnot and I helped him translate some things into English so he could find more housing options once he got there. As a thank-you, he offered to give me free self-defense lessons and that's where the genius idea of an English/self-defense class exchange was born. Starting right when I got back to Rio, we spent almost every day of the first few weeks doing classes together and it turned out we both loved to salsa, too, so we became going-out buddies as well and ended up becoming great friends.
So, like I said, Nico was looking for a roommate and I needed a new place as well (more on that, later because that's a whole other story). I decided to move in but went to double-check everything with the owner, first. I'd been there a number of times before for Nico's English lessons so I knew there was a very sweet 82-woman who lived there and was always down for a chat. Her son was the owner and his wife, their son and their son's wife all lived there as well. Then I knew there were about three or four guys who trained at Nico's gym as well.
Well...I went to talk to the owner and, as we were standing outside talking, dude after dude that I'd never seen before started walking into the house, one by one. After about the 8th person I had to ask. "How many freaking people live here?!?" The answer was about 14 guys, all of whom are paid to train full-time for the MMA.
Things went well with the owner so I went home, loaded my backpack and headed over. When I walked into the house, I saw abs and biceps everywhere; the kitchen and living room were crawling with dudes. I went up to the room I'd be sharing with Nico and stayed in there the rest of the night. I admittedly didn't know how to handle all that we had going on downstairs.
Nico, preshnut that he is, gave me the only bed and put a mattress on the floor for himself. From the day I moved in, our friendship began to turn into one of the most beautiful ones I've ever had. He became a real brother of mine; he's someone I can be honest with, act silly around, have sing-alongs with, have deep, important conversations with and be completely comfortable around.
We spent the next two months living together, with MMA fighters constantly moving in and out of the other rooms of this enormous house. The background there is that we lived really close to a famous gym in Rio and people from all over came to train there. Most of them were Brazilian but sometimes other fighters came from places like Peru, Ecuador, Malaysia, Norway and one guy from a random, French-speaking island in the Caribbean. They all stayed for different lengths of time so it was hard to know how many people actually lived there at any given time but I'd say it was usually between 5 and 14 fighters, plus the five-person family and Nico and I.
Living with a bunch of dudes means that the kitchen and bathrooms aren't usually as clean as one would hope but it means there's always people around and something hilarious is almost always happening. One of my favorite parts, too, was that no one really spoke English. Almost everyone spoke Portuguese and there were a couple who spoke Spanish so I got to practice beautiful languages every time I wanted to talk to someone! At one point, an English-speaker came and I got to translate for him and the rest of the guys which was really fun for me, too.
One of the other best parts of living in the house was that I spent some time almost every day sitting with Dona Maria, my 82-year-old bestie who taught me a lot of the Portuguese that I speak today. We got along so well that she told me she thinks we knew each other in a previous life (and I can't argue). She's super sweet but doesn't take any bullshit from anyone. She's said some hilariously inappropriate things that I'll have to blog about one day in the future, as well.
For now, I'm not sure if I'll be living in the same house when I get back or not but that place is definitely one of my favorite homes that I've had. I'm grateful to Nico, Dona Maria and her family and all the guys for making it such a blast!
Tuesday, August 18, 2015
Tuesday, August 11, 2015
Related to the previous post...
Growing
up in suburban Ohio, "What are you?" was a normal question for us to
ask each other in classes or on sports teams. We knew exactly what people meant when they asked this question. My family's answer to this
question was supposed to be "75% German and 25% Irish" (though sometimes mentioning the adopted great(?)-grandmother's unknown heritage to leave some wiggle-room for error).
Teaching elementary school in Korea, I started to think about that question again and how funny it was that I'd grown up thinking that such a question (with answers given in a percentage format) was normal. Now, in Brazil, I started to wonder if people ask each other that here. Most Brazilians are either from African, Portuguese, indigenous, Italian, German or Japanese descent. There are descendants from other countries as well and the majority of people are some sort of mix of these races. I realized that, in Brazil, they could easily ask each other that same question my friends and I grew up asking each other.
I asked a Brazilian friend of mine a while back and she told me that Brazilians never ask each other that question. They couldn't care less where their last names are from or what percentage of African or Portuguese blood they have in their bodies. They do, however, divide themselves in a very similar way, depending on what city their from. This is true and became blatantly obvious as soon as I started getting to know the locals.
Brazilians have a word to describe people from every different city in Brazil (the two most obvious examples being: Paulistas--people from Sao Paolo--and Cariocas--people from Rio). These words refer to where a person was born and raised.
In the U.S., we use our heritage to divide ourselves. We separate ourselves and attach (oftentimes silly) stereotypes: "He talks a lot because he's Italian." "He drinks a lot because he's Irish.". We attach pride and shame to these titles as well and, more often than not, these stereotypes are used to talk about people who have been in the U.S. for so many generations that they're more American than a McDonald's hamburger. People don't necessarily take these stereotypes entirely seriously but this idea still seems pretty ingrained to me. Oddly enough, though, we often know so little about the actual way of life of these people, that we Americans who consider ourselves "Italians" or "Irish," for example, would stick out like sore thumbs in the actual countries we're supposedly so attached to. (I can attest to this; I've been to both Italy and Ireland with groups of "Italian" and "Irish" Americans.)
In much the same way, Brazilians divide and attach stereotypes to people based on what city they're from. If you ask any Paulista what he or she thinks of Cariocas, they'll tell you that Cariocas are lazy and all they do is go to the beach. Cariocas will tell you that Paulistas are uptight and that all they do is work and look for more money. I've heard both groups talk about their good stereotypes as well but, in the end, it all looks about the same as what we do State-side.
I guess it's just another example of people being people. It seems that it's human nature to divide ourselves somehow and keep the "other" out. It's fun to look at how we do it in different ways in different countries and it seems absolutely silly when looking at it from the outside.
Teaching elementary school in Korea, I started to think about that question again and how funny it was that I'd grown up thinking that such a question (with answers given in a percentage format) was normal. Now, in Brazil, I started to wonder if people ask each other that here. Most Brazilians are either from African, Portuguese, indigenous, Italian, German or Japanese descent. There are descendants from other countries as well and the majority of people are some sort of mix of these races. I realized that, in Brazil, they could easily ask each other that same question my friends and I grew up asking each other.
I asked a Brazilian friend of mine a while back and she told me that Brazilians never ask each other that question. They couldn't care less where their last names are from or what percentage of African or Portuguese blood they have in their bodies. They do, however, divide themselves in a very similar way, depending on what city their from. This is true and became blatantly obvious as soon as I started getting to know the locals.
Brazilians have a word to describe people from every different city in Brazil (the two most obvious examples being: Paulistas--people from Sao Paolo--and Cariocas--people from Rio). These words refer to where a person was born and raised.
In the U.S., we use our heritage to divide ourselves. We separate ourselves and attach (oftentimes silly) stereotypes: "He talks a lot because he's Italian." "He drinks a lot because he's Irish.". We attach pride and shame to these titles as well and, more often than not, these stereotypes are used to talk about people who have been in the U.S. for so many generations that they're more American than a McDonald's hamburger. People don't necessarily take these stereotypes entirely seriously but this idea still seems pretty ingrained to me. Oddly enough, though, we often know so little about the actual way of life of these people, that we Americans who consider ourselves "Italians" or "Irish," for example, would stick out like sore thumbs in the actual countries we're supposedly so attached to. (I can attest to this; I've been to both Italy and Ireland with groups of "Italian" and "Irish" Americans.)
In much the same way, Brazilians divide and attach stereotypes to people based on what city they're from. If you ask any Paulista what he or she thinks of Cariocas, they'll tell you that Cariocas are lazy and all they do is go to the beach. Cariocas will tell you that Paulistas are uptight and that all they do is work and look for more money. I've heard both groups talk about their good stereotypes as well but, in the end, it all looks about the same as what we do State-side.
I guess it's just another example of people being people. It seems that it's human nature to divide ourselves somehow and keep the "other" out. It's fun to look at how we do it in different ways in different countries and it seems absolutely silly when looking at it from the outside.
Wednesday, August 5, 2015
Argentina vs Americana
Two pretty similar words, right? Both are 9-letter Portuguese words that begin with the letter A and refer to nationality.
Well here in Brazil, these words make a big difference for me on a daily basis.
When I lived in Peru, Peruvians always thought I was Israeli (because many of the tourists there are). Here, though, everyone thinks I'm Argentinian. Never once has anyone guessed I was American. Why? I think for a number of reasons:
1. Backpacking is not exactly an American thing...I've only met a few other Americans on this entire 9-month trip and only three (that I can think of) here in Brazil.
2. I speak Spanish and, when I speak Portuguese, I speak with more of a Spanish speaker's accent/intonation than an English-speaker's.
3. My hair, eye and skin color are extremely common in Argentina.
4. Argentinians backpack a lot and especially in Brazil.
Because of this confusion, I've involuntarily gotten to do the social experiment I had already discussed with my friend, Verenice. We'd been wondering if people would treat us differently depending on where we were from and I've now found over and over again that that is, in fact, the case.
Brazilians and Argentinians have a huge soccer rivalry and some people say that that's all it is--soccer. For many others, though, it goes far beyond that. (There are also people who say it's only about soccer and then, all in the same breath, go on to tell me how horrible people from Argentina are.)
Time and time again, I've watched people's facial expressions and energy completely change when I tell them that I'm American, not Argentinian. It always starts with a blank stare, a casual, half-assed hand-shake or kisses on the cheeks and a bored, "You're from Argentina, right?" I answer with "No, I´m from the U.S." and suddenly everything changes. Their eyes light up, a big smile spreads and their whole demeanor snaps to the other extreme. "Que legal!" ("How cool!") they say and then go on to tell me that it's their dream to live in the US, where "there is no corruption, no one is poor and everything is cheap." New York is usually their destination of choice.
A number of times, it's gone further than this typical conversation. Once, I was on the beach with a Brazilian friend of mine and one of the dozens of guys selling henna tattoos came by.
(In Portuguese, of course:)
Vendor: Do you want a tattoo? Just 15 reals.
Me: Sorry, I don't have any money.
Vendor: Okay, 10 reals.
Me: I really don't have any money.
Vendor: 5.
Me: How can I pay if I don't have any money?!?
By the end of the conversation, my tone had risen a little and I started laughing which apparently pissed this guy off. He took his tattoos and stormed off, yelling "You don't have any money because you're Argentinian!" I was so dumbfounded at first that I couldn't even get the words out to ask Raquel if I'd perhaps misunderstood the Portuguese. Raquel confirmed what he had said though and I just couldn't believe it. By the time I was ready to say something about it (since, in my opinion, people shouldn't walk around saying crap like that to other people) he was long gone.
The dumbest part is that I'm quite sure that if he'd known I was American, he would've been all smiles and told me that he wants to move to New York, too. This and countless other times, people have been extremely nice to me or very quick to write me off based solely on where they think I'm from. It goes to show, once again, that these prejudices are absolutely pointless. I'm me either way, looking how I look and doing whatever I'm doing in that moment, but people see me in such a negative light when they think I'm Argentinian and a completely different light when they know I'm American.
This type of prejudice is obvious in every country I've been to (definitely including my own) but the group being hated changes depending on criteria that never seems anything but arbitrary to me.
Well here in Brazil, these words make a big difference for me on a daily basis.
When I lived in Peru, Peruvians always thought I was Israeli (because many of the tourists there are). Here, though, everyone thinks I'm Argentinian. Never once has anyone guessed I was American. Why? I think for a number of reasons:
1. Backpacking is not exactly an American thing...I've only met a few other Americans on this entire 9-month trip and only three (that I can think of) here in Brazil.
2. I speak Spanish and, when I speak Portuguese, I speak with more of a Spanish speaker's accent/intonation than an English-speaker's.
3. My hair, eye and skin color are extremely common in Argentina.
4. Argentinians backpack a lot and especially in Brazil.
Because of this confusion, I've involuntarily gotten to do the social experiment I had already discussed with my friend, Verenice. We'd been wondering if people would treat us differently depending on where we were from and I've now found over and over again that that is, in fact, the case.
Brazilians and Argentinians have a huge soccer rivalry and some people say that that's all it is--soccer. For many others, though, it goes far beyond that. (There are also people who say it's only about soccer and then, all in the same breath, go on to tell me how horrible people from Argentina are.)
Time and time again, I've watched people's facial expressions and energy completely change when I tell them that I'm American, not Argentinian. It always starts with a blank stare, a casual, half-assed hand-shake or kisses on the cheeks and a bored, "You're from Argentina, right?" I answer with "No, I´m from the U.S." and suddenly everything changes. Their eyes light up, a big smile spreads and their whole demeanor snaps to the other extreme. "Que legal!" ("How cool!") they say and then go on to tell me that it's their dream to live in the US, where "there is no corruption, no one is poor and everything is cheap." New York is usually their destination of choice.
A number of times, it's gone further than this typical conversation. Once, I was on the beach with a Brazilian friend of mine and one of the dozens of guys selling henna tattoos came by.
(In Portuguese, of course:)
Vendor: Do you want a tattoo? Just 15 reals.
Me: Sorry, I don't have any money.
Vendor: Okay, 10 reals.
Me: I really don't have any money.
Vendor: 5.
Me: How can I pay if I don't have any money?!?
By the end of the conversation, my tone had risen a little and I started laughing which apparently pissed this guy off. He took his tattoos and stormed off, yelling "You don't have any money because you're Argentinian!" I was so dumbfounded at first that I couldn't even get the words out to ask Raquel if I'd perhaps misunderstood the Portuguese. Raquel confirmed what he had said though and I just couldn't believe it. By the time I was ready to say something about it (since, in my opinion, people shouldn't walk around saying crap like that to other people) he was long gone.
The dumbest part is that I'm quite sure that if he'd known I was American, he would've been all smiles and told me that he wants to move to New York, too. This and countless other times, people have been extremely nice to me or very quick to write me off based solely on where they think I'm from. It goes to show, once again, that these prejudices are absolutely pointless. I'm me either way, looking how I look and doing whatever I'm doing in that moment, but people see me in such a negative light when they think I'm Argentinian and a completely different light when they know I'm American.
This type of prejudice is obvious in every country I've been to (definitely including my own) but the group being hated changes depending on criteria that never seems anything but arbitrary to me.
My Brazilian Slogans
After skyping with my brother who actually does work in Marketing, I decided that I should probably join him. You see, one day while walking down the streets of Copacabana, the perfect slogan for the country just popped right into my head:
It's true. Then I started trying to think of others.
But then the sarcasm set in...
and...
I mean it. People here are serious when they say it's like a religion to them. It looks exactly that way from the outside. People grow up in a family rooting for this team or that and nothing is more important to them than their team winning. All logic and rationality seem to go out the window and the term "petty argument" takes on a whole new meaning.
It's an actual problem in some marriages because the husband and wife root for different teams; soccer causes serious fights and sometimes even death here. Religion and soccer. In my mind, those are not big enough reasons for people to abandon logic, to fight, or to die. But I'm sure people will continue to do so for both so I'm just gonna let it go.
Anyway, that was my dip into "marketing" (though I'd only really recommend the first one) and I'm done now. Back to my usual focus on linguistics, traveling, teaching, psychology, social justice and hippie-lifestyles!
Brazil:
Even the white guys are hot.
It's true. Then I started trying to think of others.
Brazil:
The only thing more beautiful than the nature is the language.
But then the sarcasm set in...
Brazil:
Bureaucracy at its longest and most obnoxious.
(Everything from visa processes and grocery stores to the tiniest little shops...you name it.)
and...
Brazil:
They don't know that it's just soccer.
I mean it. People here are serious when they say it's like a religion to them. It looks exactly that way from the outside. People grow up in a family rooting for this team or that and nothing is more important to them than their team winning. All logic and rationality seem to go out the window and the term "petty argument" takes on a whole new meaning.
It's an actual problem in some marriages because the husband and wife root for different teams; soccer causes serious fights and sometimes even death here. Religion and soccer. In my mind, those are not big enough reasons for people to abandon logic, to fight, or to die. But I'm sure people will continue to do so for both so I'm just gonna let it go.
Anyway, that was my dip into "marketing" (though I'd only really recommend the first one) and I'm done now. Back to my usual focus on linguistics, traveling, teaching, psychology, social justice and hippie-lifestyles!
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